


His Royal Highness Regis Lucis Caelum's Shitty Cryptid Roadtrip List

by vanitaslaughing



Series: "If the next one's a flesh-eating ghoul again, I'll end the monarchy myself"—Cor Leonis, M.E.756 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Immortality, Local Legends, M/M, Road Trips, Spirits, more or less. youll see.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 09:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: In a world that doesn't know daemons or war but that definitely knows magic, Regis and his retainers set out on his coming of age ceremony... that just so happens to be a list he has to run down.It usually leads them to cryptids and ancient swords. Great!And the last item on that list is... an immortal in the forest?





	His Royal Highness Regis Lucis Caelum's Shitty Cryptid Roadtrip List

**Author's Note:**

> the war never happened, lucis/tenebrae/accordo/niflheim are all on good terms  
> daemons dont exist  
> ""normal"" magic exists alongside technology and oracle/crystal magic

There were several things across the countryside that barely qualified for more than a local legend. Stories of how a brilliant red bird people called the Phoenix had once its nest atop the Rock of Ravatogh and breathed life back into those that fell close to it; stories of a ruin where up was down and left was right; stories of monsters buried in old underground living spaces; tales of something that walked through the dreams of the dying in case they weren’t supposed to go yet to offer them succour. Tales of ancient warriors awaiting challengers, tales of witches and ghosts and straight-up soul-sucking monsters that haunted countrysides and ruins and hilltops and what not.

Lucis was a land of legends.

A land of legends that always held some truth in them, Regis had learned on this trip.

The Phoenix turned out to be a cranky as hell son of a bitch that had nearly killed the five of them by suddenly rising from the lava pit they were staring into protected by a magical shield Regis had conjured up—the flap of its wings had nearly shattered the damned shield and they would have been, as Weskham then later joked at camp, snacks made by chicken wings. Cor had only smacked his palm into his face after that, while Cid and Weskham had started an animated argument over whether the Phoenix could be considered a chicken or not.

The ruin existed, but it turned out to be more terrifying than fun as the local legends described. After getting seemingly impaled upon red hot needle-like spikes for the hundredth time only for it to have been an illusion, Clarus had grabbed Regis by the collar, yanked him backwards and said that enough was enough. His poor best friend looked terrified, and Regis yielded to him nearly begging.

The damned monsters did too, of course, and Cid swore that one day they would all pay for their hubris of digging into this bullshit as the king had asked them to. “Yer daddy’s a nutcase, ‘n yer comin’ o’ age trip’s crap, Reggie,” the man growled at camp after they had narrowly avoided getting buried alive when the structure collapsed on top of them. At least it buried the monster as well, Cor muttered from his spot while Clarus noted that the deep cut on his forehead was bleeding again.

The dreamwalker remained elusive, but in a small town at the Risorath River they found charms that were made in its likeness; with the elderly shopkeeper grinning at them sheepishly and telling them that Carbuncle was very much real, even if the city slickers didn’t necessarily believe in it. Sometimes it just appeared in photographs of people who had seen it, and he showed them one such picture. Indeed, the small blueish fox was very clearly there, and even Cid had to admit that he’d never seen a Lucian critter like this.

Of course the immortal warrior existed too. Cor carved his arm off him as the five of them absconded through the ruins they had investigating, the spirits that had barred their way often springing back into action and howling all the way through. Soul-sucking monsters also existed. Haunted countrysides and haunted ruins and haunted hilltops, even the legend of a living mountain turned out to be true much to Regis’ horror as he stared into the eye of a thrice-damned Adamantoise.

Understandably enough, the other three absolutely refused when they heard the tale of an alleged immortal living in these woods near the coast. Weskham still was recovering from nearly having lost an eye to their last encounter, Cor had managed to spoil his stomach, and Cid claimed he was getting too old for this nonsense and the other two kids needed a supervisor. Thus, like in the good old days of making their parents’ lives as hard as possible by finding the best hiding spots in the Citadel, Regis and Clarus were left to wander about on their own.

This was supposed to be their last stop before returning to the Crown City, at the very least. King Mors had given his son a checklist, and as Regis had noted before they headed off was that this was the last item on that list. Somehow, after all the dangerous encounters they had had before Clarus had expected some sort of man-eating monstrosity to immediately try to splatter their guts across the forest floor—but no such thing happened. In truth the coastal forest was rather pleasant; the crisp air carrying a hint of the sea breeze. Apparently this had been a settlement in the distant past, the very seat of the Kingdom of Lucis. Much like Angelgard the forest was off-limits for people not of royal blood or sent by royals. But unlike that forsaken abandoned island prison this forest was stunningly beautiful. The coastal flowers of the country seemed to bloom in abundance here under the surprisingly high trees, some of them even snaking up the bark or growing from the branches. There were even some flowers from the other continents growing here, Clarus noticed after a while. If something or someone truly lived here in the Cradle of Lucis then it had to be a surprisingly peaceful creature.

Regis stopped Clarus by grabbing his arm. “Hey, Clarus.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Drop the Highness. The peanut gallery isn’t around.”

Rather than waiting for an answer, Regis pulled his Shield in. It wasn’t very often that the two of them got moments together like this, sticking to both desperately and sneakily trying to divide the group into rooms of two and three whenever they actually made a stop at a hotel of a sort. It usually backfired on them; winding up with Cor uncomfortably sitting on a bed with his legs and arms crossed, his eyes squeezed shut and definitely and deliberately refusing to move. All thanks to Weskham and Cid using the best sort of cockblocker in the world—an underage teenage boy who definitely was trying to ignore the fact that the prince and his future bodyguard were in a thinly veiled relationship and _definitely_ not making out in the bathroom.

Clarus laughed and put a hand on Regis’ mouth. “Come now, Reg, we’re trying to find the last entry on His Highness’, what did you call it? Shitty cryptid roadtrip list?”

“Yeah,” Regis mumbled into his his hand, “but what if it’s a royal order to give the prince a kiss _now?”_

“Only if His Royal Highness Regis Lucis Caelum tells me what precisely we’re looking for afterwards.”

A grumble, but Clarus nevertheless removed his hand and leaned down to kiss the prince gently. At least Regis was grinning a good-natured smile after that when he grabbed the list from his pockets.

“Alright. Local legend says there’s an immortal in these woods. When we asked at the nearest settlement, that small port town, they said that maybe not something immortal but it’s definitely haunted. Flickering lights and unusual amounts of flowers, maybe some sort of benevolent forest spirit.”

Clarus rolled his eyes. “The last forest spirit we came across tried to eat Cid whole.”

“The last forest spirit we came across was a _treant,_ not a forest spirit,” Regis said with a confidence that only he could manage whenever he spoke to someone he _knew_ was wrong. “Anyway. As far as the locals are concerned, there’s definitely something that the royal family’s trying to hide by making this forest off-limits, but they kind of fear that if they trespass that something will go and attack them. They say it is probably something that doesn’t attack them as long as they respect the boundary set by the royals or something. As for what exactly we’re looking for, no idea. Could be human. Could be something that’ll try to suck the marrow out of our spines.”

For a second Clarus could have sworn he heard someone giggle—both he and Regis looked around, but nothing in the forest had changed.

Maybe it had been a bird. Coastal birds were strange, after all.

* * *

At first it had been a tug on Regis’ sleeves. Then it had been something that distinctly felt like a human hand going through his hair, followed by Clarus swearing that he had just felt someone shove him right after he stumbled. Then it was flowers raining down on them—but they were still on their own.

“If those are benevolent forest spirits I’ll eat my damned hands!” Regis stomped his foot on a root only to have a small branch land on his head. “Gah!”

Clarus grabbed the prince’s hand and pulled him close; this time the embrace was the bodyguard and protected way rather than two lovers. Whatever these forest spirits were doing, he would not let his beloved prince get hurt.

“Well, whatever they are, they better knock it off. Right. Now. Spirits or not, I’ve got a way to find out where they are and put an end to them.” A bluff, of course, but generally that kind of talk deterred the supernatural and mischievous. It had gotten a bunch of tonberries off their backs back in Duscae; maybe it could work with whatever was going on here as well. He dimly remembered that Tenebraen forests were supposedly full of sylphs and faeries.

All mischievous forest critters that loved the tall trees and vibrant flowers of the forests in that country. Maybe this forest was simply the sole Lucian forest full of sylphs and faeries, and they had walked right into their home.

Whatever it was in the end that had been messing with them stopped for a moment. Regis moved uncomfortably in Clarus’ almost crushing embrace, clearly embarrassed that at nearly 21 years old he was still being held like that day someone had tried to assassinate King Mors and Clarus had been the only person around to even consider that the prince had seen all that blood as well.

“Clarus, I don’t think they mean any harm—“

“Well, whatever the case, we _are_ in a forest. If they pull on your clothes while you step over a root and you stumble, fall, and break an arm, what then? So knock it off already!”

It definitely sounded like there were at least two things whispering to each other now, breathy distant voices that sounded more like the distant roar of waves crashing against the shore than anything else. Regis shuddered and buried his face in Clarus’ chest.

Somewhere nearby a bush rustled loudly. Clarus held even tighter onto Regis, ready to pull his shield from the arsenal to defend the shivering prince if necessary.

“Would you two _please_ stop tormenting children,” a strange voice said from that bush, and Clarus turned the two of them around to look at this new threat.

The new threat was… a man dressed in white. Clarus loosened his grip on Regis a little so the prince could turn around to look at the newcomer as well since he did not carry a weapon with him.

The man rubbed the back of his neck with an annoyed expression on his face despite his closed eyes. His long red hair was in a loose ponytail and he looked rather tired and exasperated all things considered. Definitely Lucian, too; his features wouldn’t have fit a Tenebraen, Accordan or Niff person. Really, the strangest thing about him was the fact that his clothes looked extremely worn and the washed out grey had definitely been brilliant white at some point.

For a moment they stared at him, but then the moment was broken by something definitely appearing on both of his sides.

They had seen spirits before, of course. There were plenty of haunted countrysides and hilltops and whatever the _hell_ else King Mors had written on that stupid list. Cor had complained about effectively being a shittier version of the Ghostbusters at some point, with Weskham saying that they only missed the wacky music and the dog called Scooby Doo to be even more ridiculous-looking. It had sparked a lively argument between the five of them, with Clarus joining in saying that calling the centuries-old custom of having the heir to the throne travel the country to find royal arms and learn about the country and its myths wasn’t stupid and Regis had bemoaned the fact that everyone was _too godsdamned loud._ But every encounter with spirits so far had been dangerous and most of them had looked like a human slightly to the left.

The two beside that stranger definitely looked perfectly human. Hells, if it weren’t for the fact that Clarus could see the trees behind them through them and that their feet were angled and not touching the ground, he would have assumed that they had just been magicians who could turn themselves invisible.

But beside the man in grey now were another man and a woman—the two of them in the royal colours of Lucis and Tenebrae, of all things. The man had his arms crossed and looked annoyed; the woman mirroring him with a pout on her face.

“Told you so,” the man said, which the woman immediately followed up with “Don’t act like an innocent saint!”

It was rather surreal to see two ghosts start bickering like children, complete with the two of them eventually leaning onto the shoulders of the man in grey and swiping at each other with their hands. The man in grey barely even reacted to that nonsense—a sign that he was long since used to it. He sighed a heavy sigh and opened his eyes at last, finally looking at the two other people in this forest properly. Regis still clung to Clarus, and Clarus fastened his grip on the prince a little again. A few heartbeats passed like that before the man closed his eyes again.

“You’re not children at all… but. The Prince of Lucis and the future Amicitia Shield, I presume?”

People that far to the other end of Lucis did normally not recognise the prince immediately. There were plenty of members of the Crownsguard travelling around the continent, all of them wearing royal black while doing so. If anything, with Cor around the five of them were normally mistaken for rookie Crownsguard members on some sort of mission or simply travelling around to protect the peace of the country like their older fellows.

This man was the first one to ever recognise them as prince and future Shield rather than just another pair of green behind the ears Crownsguard. He likely judged their confused silence as answer enough, and gestured at them. “I know why you are here. Please, follow me—and never mind those two.”

‘Those two’ immediately stopped their most definitely petty fight and harrumphed. Neither Regis nor Clarus moved, and the man in grey stopped after a few steps.

Another sigh. “If I had wanted to harm either of you, I would not have called of my beloved late fiancé and equally late darling brother. You would have been dead long before you reached this point.”

Not exactly the best kind of thing to say, but Regis and Clarus exchanged a long grim look, nodded at each other, and then followed the man in grey.

* * *

This place could have been almost… quaint were it not for the uncomfortable silence. Clarus had noted the ridiculous amount of dried herbs and what not, strung up on string that went high above their heads between the trees. The small cottage in this out of the way part of the forest looked like it would house a herb witch rather than the man who had served them tea just a little earlier. In fact, the man himself looked rather out of place, being followed around by ghosts of Lucian and Tenebraen royalty all aside.

Were those spirits the immortal that King Mors had mentioned on his list? They would certainly it that criteria—but who was the man in grey, then? Someone from the port town? Someone from another part of Lucis; travelling there occasionally for some things?

“Goodness,” the man eventually started after sipping his tea, “you two are a suspicious pair. Most others would have at least tried _smelling_ the tea to see whether I put something into it or not by now.”

A grumble from the man in royal black. “I distinctly remember the last one nearly turning the table over and trying to cleave you in half while his Shield did not even bat as much as an eyelash before trying her tea.”

A beat. Then Regis blinked a few times. “The… last one?”

The woman in Tenebraen white drew a hand through her blonde hair. “And your family’s penchant for not telling the whole story continues, dearest brother-in-law.”

The man in grey only gestured at the two of them to shut them up before they could start another argument, and then folded his hands. “She does have a point, but try to keep it serious for _once_ in my godsforsaken life, you two.”

Clarus understood. Regis understood too judging from the way how he froze up. This man was the immortal that they were supposed to seek out, and he just so happened to have a pair of ghosts along that seemed to be his own brother and his fiancé.

Surely enough, the man closed his hazel eyes that looked nearly yellow in this light. “If you have half a brain to think with unlike your father, then I should not have to say that much, but I will say it regardless. The immortal you seek would be me. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, at your humblest service, Prince… ah.”

Regis’ eyes were wide as he stared at the man, then slowly turned to look at his two companions. There was a level of understanding that Clarus didn’t get, but Regis seemed to be completely stunned into silence; Clarus cleared his throat.

“His Royal Highness Regis Lucis Caelum,” he said quickly and then put a hand on his chest to symbolise a bow. “Clarus Amicitia.”

Ardyn smiled, a thing that was both reassuring and completely and sincerely the most unnerving thing Clarus had ever seen. Regis moved at last, his hand under the table looking for Clarus’.

“I’m fairly sure the prince knows by now, but let me fill you in, Amicitia. My animated companions here are my late fiancé Aera Mils Fleuret and my late brother Somnus Lucis Caelum.”

What followed was a story that managed to be simultaneously the funniest damned thing Clarus had ever heard in his life yet also one of the most gut-wrenching tales of tragedy that had ever been written on this damned planet. The only reason that Eos had not been plunged into darkness had been the choice of four people back then. The ambitious had become humble, the calm had turned their fury to the heavens, and in some grand act of defiance against the divine decree, two brothers that had all but grown apart from each other managed to defy the gods as siblings rather than rivals. Unfortunately, as most tales of defiance went, they all paid their price.

And in the end, though the Founder King Somnus, the Healer King Ardyn, the First Shield Gilgamesh and the First Oracle Aera had managed to purify the world, they found themselves in a precarious situation.

Somnus and Aera had lost their bodies; their flesh burnt away by the purifying light they set free. Gilgamesh and Ardyn on the other hand had been cursed with eternal life for their defiance—at first eternal life did not remotely sound like a curse, but Ardyn very quickly corrected Regis’ exclamation. No matter what, he did not age. His memory did not get better with time, and slowly but steadily as every person he ever got to know died his memories of the past withered away further and further.

Five years after the gods had allegedly made their decision on who ought to rule, they had met up. With Somnus having established borders and the like under the guiding hands of the gods, people called him the Founder King. Ardyn meanwhile continued travelling and healing, and after the incident that left his brother without a body yet unable to pass into the beyond he helped Somnus’ semi-widowed wife raise his nephew until he was old enough to take over the kingdom.

Once that young man took the crown the four agreed to leave and not meddle with the affairs of mortals.

Of course that young king immediately wrote down where to find them, made a route that led his son through the countryside to meet them and slowly but steadily it turned into the trip that Regis and Clarus went on. The ancient weapons were just yet another thing that was a neat bonus of going to meet with the people who had saved the planet and were punished for their unwillingness to play with the hands they were dealt.

“He might have been a jackass and I might have been blinded by ambition, but I draw the line at public fratricide,” the Founder King grumbled from his new position—floating with his legs crossed and his back turned to his brother.

Aera narrowed her eyes. “Yes, yes. You say that every generation, and every time your offspring look like a cat staring into open fire at night.”

It felt kind of surreal to know that those three were effectively the people responsible for those Daemons from ancient legends and myths not roaming the earth any longer. Perhaps even more surreal was the thought that the very man whose arm Cor had sliced off— Oh gods, Cor had sliced an immortal’s arm off.

Regis looked at him for a moment as Clarus paled.

Whatever argument unfolded between Somnus and Aera now the two of them missed completely, because after about five minutes of pointless bickering, Ardyn got up and told the prince that he would be taking them out of the forest now. There was no point in staying around, and Clarus and Regis followed the man quietly.

* * *

“Oh, one last thing.”

Clarus was more than ready to leave this place behind, no matter how pretty it actually was. The ghastly argument of the Founder King and the First Oracle had followed them for quite a while, the sudden harshness of truth finally settling in. Those were two souls who were unable to pass to the beyond because the gods would not let them after they refused to play along. Even Ardyn’s serene calm was unnerving now, and surely enough there was a strange glint in his eyes as he leaned over to Regis. For a moment he thought he saw the glint of steel.

Clarus moved out of instinct, pushing himself between Regis and a perceived threat immediately, and he caught that smile on Ardyn’s face.

“You Shields never change. Though that usually proves to be your downfall more than anything else. Relax, Amicitia.”

He had definitely not imagined the glint of steel; Ardyn took a few steps backwards and Clarus saw what had happened here. Ardyn was holding out an ancient-looking weapon. A royal arm.

“It would be a shame if you did not take the Blade of the Mystic with you, wouldn’t it? He may be a mouthy bastard but he still is the reason the bloodline did not die out.”

Regis crossed his arms and peeked around Clarus. “Is what you said the truth?”

Ardyn blinked. “What would I gain from lying to you, Your Highness? Much like the Blademaster I cannot die. But unlike him I have no skills to impart to the world; everything I know a good witch trained with herbs can teach you just as well with the added benefit of knowing more modern tinctures and the like.”

Regis still did not look entirely convinced, but he nodded and grabbed the weapon anyway. This thing and the final check mark on the list was why they had come here.

“Well, either way,” the man said after the weapon vanished in a burst of crystal shards, “’tis high time we parted, Prince Regis.”

Regis scowled and pulled the list out of his pockets. Waved it around in front of the immortal man’s face. “So you’re telling me, this entire thing was started because the second King of Lucis wanted his son to meet his grandfather!? And then it turned into—“

“In your father’s words, ‘the world’s shittiest cross-country trip that he’d ever had had the displeasure of taking part in’? Why, yes.” Ardyn looked at the two of them and shrugged. “Look, children, I am about as happy about our existence as you are, but the fact that we crossed the gods remains. Even when hell itself freezes over and the Infernian once again walks the earth we will remain.”

“Is that why you’re all holed up in this _shitty_ forest?”

“I wouldn’t quite call it shitty—“

“You’re in the middle of _bumfuck nowhere!”_

“Regis,” Clarus intercepted, “language.”

The prince grumbled angrily, and Clarus decided to forgo propriety around strangers and instead put a hand on Regis’ cheek. The grumbling died down at the very least, and Clarus was very much aware of how Ardyn was looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Your Highness,” Ardyn said after a moment, “at least this, ah, excursion got you around the countryside. And even if it did lead into several haunted forests and the like, would you not say that Lucis is very much a country that deserves protection?”

Regis sighed. “Yes. Down to every single damned creature we came across on this trip. Even if they tried mauling us.”

“And that, my dearest distant nephew, is the true purpose of this excursion you so lovingly called, ah, ‘shitty cryptid roadtrip list’. A lesson that you and every single one of your ancestors learned.”

* * *

Regis and Clarus agreed that they wouldn’t be telling the peanut gallery what exactly they had found. Maybe Cor and Weskham when they were back in Insomnia, but something about telling Cid made their alarms blare. Clarus could almost picture the old man marching into the forest calling bullshit on that story and the other four of their merry band running after him to prevent him from storming right to his death.

The immortal healer and his two spirit companions would remain a secret for the time being. Perhaps they could set their children up for a similar idiotic adventure that would wind up with Lady Aera and the Founder King messing with their hair and clothes.

The thought was hilarious, Regis giggled as Clarus swept him off his feet to carry him the rest of the way to their camping grounds. They might as well make their friends uncomfortable before telling them that the immortal being in the forest had just been an ancient semi-sentient tree. Not the kind that gained sentience from purifying evil spirits but the kind that somehow slowly gained sentience by itself.

Cor would really hate that story after nearly getting possessed by a malevolent spirit that the local guardian tree had not cleansed.

* * *

“Ugh. I hate dad’s shitty cryptid roadtrip list. Really? Look at that last point: Immortal in the forest?”

“Noct, with all due respect, we know for a fact that both magic and the supernatural very much exist… His Majesty’s list seems to lead you to the graves of your ancestors as well as across the countryside for some reason or another.”

Gladio and Prompto agreed. Noctis only crossed his arms and Ignis adjusted his glasses with a sigh.

“Well, whatever is in that forest, we’ll eventually have got find out, huh?”

“Sure do. C’mon, princess; lighten up. Our old men did it—how hard can it be?”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @cleignewheat


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